I am -as many of you already know- an avid e-book reader. The last year has been extravagant as I have read some of the world’s greatest literary works. This may initially seem like a win-win situation, a bibliophile and an abundant -if not limitless- supply of books. However, there is a much darker story brewing, than I could have ever predicted a year ago. This ominous feeling is one which can best be described as “literary powerlessness”: a sense that somehow the world’s wealth of literature has become too streamlined. What used to be a ritualistic, symbolic action -lifting and paging through a book- has been somehow reduced to data processing.
Lest, I receive a deluge of critical comments let me explain how this sense of “literary powerlessness” arose. When I first purchased my Kindle, I went to all of the great free e-book websites and built myself the library of my dreams. It was an amazing time in which I picked up works ranging from rough and rugged authors such as Jack London to complex men such as Fyodor Dostoyevsky. The magic of e-books was that it allowed me, an inconsequential young man, the chance to rapidly and cheaply acquire the works of such great writers. In countless ways the Kindle has enriched my life and for that I am grateful. Unfortunately, these numerous gifts have come at a significant cost.
I used to have a layer of separation that was quite tangible, this layer no longer exists. In the Pre-Kindle days there used to be a certain amount of work involved in getting a book. One would, for instance, have to get up off the couch, walk over to the library, bookstore or even their bookcase, and physically pick up a literary work of art. This may appear to some as nitpicking but it goes a bit deeper. The concept of ownership that many of us have been ingrained with originated from the ideas of a man known as John Locke, who placed a premium on labor leading to ownership. A farmer was entitled to land because he or she spent time developing it. Very few of us have written, edited, and distributed a book but somehow the act of having to save up for, spend money on, or walk to a library to possess a book created an attachment with individual books that made reading seem less stressful.
Books in their dead-tree form, make me feel as if each one has created an intimate relationship with me, that I am beginning to lose with the works that makeup my ever expanding collection: at last count its well over a thousand e-books. Don’t get me wrong, I do have vivid memories of working a late shift and tearing through “War and Peace” or the sense of connection that I established with Hugo’s “Les Miserable”: both being free e-books from feedbooks.com. But, everything in between, I am beginning to view with a bid of dread. I know that I can form an emotional attachment to a writer’s thoughts but am beginning to realize that a writer’s work may need to be even more powerful than before to excite me.
This is not Amazon’s fault or e-books’ fault, but rather the irony of human existence. There is an infinite list of great books but I feel as if the sub-par work has become too easy to mix with the great books. Whether it’s the under-qualified opinions that pass as book reviews or just the ease of e-books that is causing it, one thing is certain, I have become overwhelmed and my e-library on some days appears as more of a burden than pleasure. There is little chance that I will be able to read all of these works in my kindle’s lifetime or even my own. I may not have any easy solutions for this problem, but I must get back to work, these books after all will not read themselves.
No offense to the author…but this is quite silly,
I see we have a closet paper fetishist in our midst 🙂 And I wasn’t aware that book reviewers had to be ‘qualified’ in order to be useful. Qualified, how? By what terms? Some of the most useful reviews to me have been a yes/no vote from my mom or my sister on a book they thought I would like.
On one thing, I do agree—time is precious, and I no longer spend mine reading mediocre books. There is so much good stuff to read, I would never get through it all. So if something doesn’t grab me pretty quickly, I turf it and move on to something better.
Too much of anything, even masterpieces, is a bad thing.
One possibility is to find an online or off-line reading group where you can discuss what you are reading. Community excitement and feedback make you think harder about the book, and it makes the reading more important.
Start a blog and write about each book you read.
A number of scholars have their list of the great works of literature. Find a list that looks right and have at it.
Switch to paper occasionally. Most libraries have copies of classics.
Take a break and read just for the fun of it. A genre novel won’t rot your brain.
Join a real-world book club so you can talk with people about books. Most libraries have them or can find one for you.
The main thing is to vary what you are doing so you can continue to do it.
Too much of a good thing, perhaps? This doesn’t bother me at all.